Forgive
by D-chan
Summary: Homura x Goku x Sanzo :: language, shounen ai, yaoi :: sequel to Mistletoe :: To forgive is human... as is to compromise.


**: Forgive :**

_Gensomaden Saiyuki_

Rating: T

Pairings: Homura/Goku/Sanzo and all interchangeable forms

Warnings: language, threesome, angst, shounen ai/yaoi

Notes: I started this last spring, intending to finish it within a week, but lo and behold, I obviously did not. However, because I was unable to write a suitable Christmas story as I always do, I decided to finish up the sequel to my previous Christmas fic, as a hopefully appropriate gift to the fandom, in its place.

The primary focus was originally intending to work on the Homura/Sanzo end of the deal, and I hope I at least got it off to a satisfactory start.

Constructive criticisms and feedback are always appreciated.

* * *

There were days he truly despised his job. Always, these days were predictable; as they just happened to occur near the time of year he had grown to dislike the most.

Homura paused on the sidewalk, his gaze turned downward. Tufts of grass attempted to crawl onto the cement, as though more life and nutrients could be found there. If they believed walking here was what fed humans what they needed, the plants were to be pitied.

Very little grew in the city.

Winter days were finally fading, leaving behind hopeful greenery. Here and there, the smallest buttercup would peek out from the ground; overjoyed to come out, but wary that the cold blanket may come back to envelope it.

All that lit his view was an overhead lamplight. Only drunkards and insomniacs were awake at this time of morning—and, of course, workers like him who headed home long after partiers had crashed. Desolate, empty streets greeted him, as well as his ever-silent shadow.

For the first time, Homura felt sickened at the thought of returning to the place he called home. Despite that, he continued walking, down the streets encompassed by dreams of the restful. Hopes and aspirations were born in this city; love and hate thrived as equals.

And, for him, there was always the lingering stench of death.

—

When he woke, Goku wasn't sure what weighed most heavily on his mind: the fact he was hungry, the remnants of the events that had taken place just hours before, or concern that a particular third party had yet to return.

The bedside clock read 2:36. Sanzo wouldn't wake up for another three hours yet, and Goku normally slept through the alarm. Usually this would result in his irritated lover tossing him out of bed – Sanzo was most definitely _not_ a morning person – or, if Sanzo was too annoyed to deal with him, another would rouse him and, somehow, help him make it to school just before the final morning bell.

Yawning, Goku rolled over his side and pressed his face into the pillow. It may have been his last year of high school, but he couldn't afford to miss any more days than he already had. His boss didn't know it (as far as he knew, anyway) but juggling the internship and his school duties was beginning to become a strain. He kept telling himself he only had to last a few more months and it would all be over, but...

The insistent gnawing in his stomach became too much for him. As quietly as possible – which meant the bed creaked with his every move – Goku slid out from under the blankets, naked, and fumbled for the jeans he had lost earlier. Zipping but not bothering to button the fly, he tiptoed into the kitchen for a late-night raid.

The linoleum under his feet was chilly, but not so much as to make him flinch. Goku smiled. Spring was underway, and already proof of its manifestations was rising. Suddenly he felt wide awake, and the gnawing had evolved into a low growl.

"Oh, shut up," he muttered to his stomach, rising on his toes to open the cupboard and grab a bowl. Sanzo would kill him if he left a mess again, but this time Goku didn't plan on leaving a trace of his snack behind. Within minutes – miraculously lacking the clatter and crashing of dropped utensils and dishes – he was slicing an apple into uneven but no less consumable chunks. Despite what many believed of him, he could care for himself, and that included basic culinary skills. To make a meal _look_ nice, he would have needed quite a bit of help. But then, Goku believed food was for eating, not for watching.

He jumped at the sound of the front door clicking. Goku turned defensively to see who dared to enter, before remembering not all the apartment's occupants were home. A split second later, he was met with a surprisingly tired, amused expression.

"Up late, are we?" Homura said quietly, holding the door handle until it shut without a sound.

"I was hungry," Goku said; unnecessarily, since he was well within view, and the other man was watching his hands now, not his face. Feeling self-conscious and berating himself for it, Goku squeezed the bottle of liquid caramel. In the darkness, the substance's appearance looked very similar to that of honey. He wondered if he should try honey-coated apples sometime.

Telltale squeaks and the rustling of cloth told him, even without looking, that Homura was removing his jacket and shoes. Goku was beginning to feel fidgety waiting for him, so he busied himself with putting the caramel away and sampled his mixture.

Once the man was sock-footed and his pockets had been emptied of his cell phone and keys, Goku made his move. He advanced on the man, barely able to see him in the dimness with his dark suit and ink-black hair. But the single gold eye that caught the barest sliver of moonlight was more than enough.

Homura put a hand on his chest before he made it all the way, a smirk curving his lips. Strange, Goku noted distantly, how unusually tired he seemed, even after putting in so many hours. "Your fingers are sticky," he said softly, as though humoring a child.

He was right. Making an irritated noise, Goku made a point to spread his arms so that his fingers weren't within immediate reach. "I don't need 'em," he stated.

"You should wash them," Homura advised.

This was _very_ odd. Goku frowned, ill at ease with the emotions the man seemed to be emanating. Between the two of his lovers, only Homura welcomed him when Goku was eager for a kiss first thing when he came home. And damn it, he had been eager a lot lately. It was almost as though Homura had been avoiding the both of them—he knew Sanzo had noticed, too, and it had made the blonde surprisingly more irritable. And when Sanzo was irritable...

Homura frowned suddenly. "What on earth happened to your neck?"

Goku felt his face color, but he tilted his head up further to give the man a better look. "What's it look like?"

"It looks as though you bled."

Goku shrugged, feeling more annoyed. Perhaps he wasn't as much of a morning person as he'd previously thought. Either that, or Homura was seriously beginning to grate on his nerves. He stepped back, though reluctantly, and turned to retrieve his snack.

"Sanzo was a little rough. It's no big deal."

"You may find it a 'big deal' if he punctures your jugular," Homura commented wryly.

The brunette scowled. "He's not _that_ careless."

"I am simply telling you to be more careful."

"_You've_ left some pretty telling marks, too, y'know."

Silence followed his vehement accusation. For a fleeting moment, Goku wondered if he'd accidentally crossed a line. Angering Homura had _never_ been a sight high on his list to see. Wincing, he kept still but for biting another chunk of sticky apple.

Then strong fingers were threading into his sleep-mussed hair, pulling his bangs back from his forehead. Goku strived to remain disgruntled, or at least nervous, yet he couldn't help but relax into the touch. It never failed; Sanzo had actually been the first to discover that stroking his hair caused all the tension to easily drain out of him. He remembered the man calling him a cat once, half amused and half disgusted. But if cats got this sort of treatment all the time, Goku decided he rather liked being a feline.

"Were you attempting to fight with me?" Homura murmured, pulling the smaller youth backward until Goku was leaning against his torso. The teenager felt a familiar glimmer of exasperation. Sometimes it was so annoying, being as short as he was. The glimmer died almost instantly, however, because this position right now was just immensely relaxing.

"Maybe," he finally admitted, closing his eyes. "But you've been acting funny lately."

"Have I?"

"Mmm... Sanzo's noticed, too."

He didn't miss the startled pause in Homura's petting. Nor did the wonder and subtle relief coloring the man's voice escape him. "Has he, really?"

The other two weren't quite as close, Goku knew. And part of him felt horrible about that, because then it seemed that the whole relationship was centering on him. While he liked attention, that sort made him uneasy. Of course, in bed it was harder to tell their relationship was less than comfortable—but then who _could_ say no to Homura's advances? Goku had simply watched them on more than one occasion, and even if he did end up losing control of his own hormones, he doubted he would have witnessed anything different if he hadn't.

Still, he felt bad. And he kept trying to think of a way for them to grow closer, but...

"Really," Goku insisted.

"I see." The conversation lapsed into silence again. Goku couldn't quite explain how, but it felt... thoughtful. On both sides.

Homura spoke first, his tones still incredibly low. "The anniversary is coming up."

At first, he didn't understand. "Anniversary...?"

"Of her death."

Even with Homura petting him, Goku tensed. This time he didn't relax again, and shifted to break loose of the man's hold. "Okay," he mumbled, unsure of what to say. If he tried offering condolences, he knew they would fall flat; he was terrible with words.

As though understanding, Homura smiled. "It has merely been weighing on my mind. I have been considering what to tell her."

"Tell her?"

"Perhaps you will find this foolish, but I often talk to her when I visit her. I like to let her know what I am doing and who I have met, so she will not worry where she is." The man sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, tousling it. "The last thing she needs is to concern herself over me in the afterlife."

Goku said nothing this time, instead giving the bowl a forlorn look. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore.

"Do you have class tomorrow?"

The brunette grimaced. "Yeah."

Homura nodded, stepping aside to let him pass. "Then you should rest."

"But the mess..."

"I will take care of it. I am not tired," Homura assured him, though his expression and demeanor said otherwise. He was clearly exhausted—but perhaps he knew he would be unable to sleep even if he lied down. Goku nodded, though his insides squirmed with guilt. He should have been able to say something comforting, something to assure Homura he was still here, even if Rinrei wasn't... but he also knew that was no good; it was no good at all.

" 'Night," he said, moving to slip past him. He wasn't surprised when Homura stopped him, granting him the kiss he had denied earlier; and he was even less surprised to feel very little enthusiasm behind it. The squirming feeling stopped, but it was replaced by a worse, almost sickening sensation.

"Good night," Homura whispered. His smile was not reassuring, and his eyes said he knew it.

Feeling even worse than before, Goku crawled back into bed without bothering to remove his jeans.

—

"What?"

Sanzo scowled, refusing to look up from his work. From his peripheral vision, he could see he had Goku's attention; the idiot was sitting on the couch armrest, despite how many times either of his roommates had told him not to, and he was staring at the man in a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

After finishing the sentence he was typing, he said flatly, "Do I have to repeat myself?"

"No," Goku grumbled. "It's just... where'd that come from?"

It didn't seem as though the conversation was going to end anytime soon, so Sanzo saved his project. Putting the laptop into standby, he finally looked his lover in the eye. "If you recall, I told him a long time ago that if he screwed this up, I'd kill him."

"How'd Homura screw things up?" demanded Goku. "You guys have barely even talked lately."

"That's how," Sanzo said irritably. "He's been avoiding me, and it's annoying."

"It's not his fault," the brunette said defensively. His fingers were digging into the fabric of the couch; if he wasn't careful, he'd tear the material. Had he been in a more agreeable mood, Sanzo would have rebuked him ahead of time, but he did no such thing. When Goku ruined it because of his own stupidity, he could deal with it after the fact.

"So you're saying it's my fault."

Goku's eyes narrowed, and despite himself, Sanzo couldn't help but find the expression attractive. He shoved the notion down, but that didn't make it any less effective. "I'm _sayin'_ that both of you are being stubborn."

Shortly, Sanzo said, "His problem, not mine. Make him leave by the end of the week."

The panic that flared in his lover's eyes sparked a resentful envy in Sanzo's middle. Damn it; he wasn't used to sharing, and he most certainly didn't enjoy sharing what had been his in the first place. He was quietly amazed that he had dealt with it for so long. But now he was tired of it, and no longer planned to do so.

"That's _not_ fair," Goku growled.

"I already told him, told you _both_—"

He should have known better than to get into an argument with the brat. Always, almost _always_, the situation ended up like this. If they were standing, they somehow found themselves on the floor, or the nearest piece of furniture, or sometimes even against the wall. And Sanzo was _always_ pinned beneath Goku's weight and strength, his protests drowned to silence with his lover's mouth practically crushing his. Dimly, he was grateful he'd had the sense to close his laptop earlier; the force of Goku's tackle might have somehow caused the machinery to crash to the ground, and then they couldn't be as they were now.

He missed this.

Sanzo loathed admitting it, but he preferred the times when he had Goku to himself; when he didn't have to _share_. He didn't adapt to change as well as many believed. And this was perfect, with his fingers tangled in the mess that Goku called hair, and the teen's hands groping whatever part of the man he most desired at the time. Right now it was Sanzo's face, his palms on either side, fingers pressing into the sensitive area just behind each ear. And his kisses were intense; at first brief, then abruptly longer and almost desperate for compassion, for attention, for _feeling_.

Panting softly, Goku broke the contact with obvious reluctance. But he was the innovative type, and made up for it by taking great interest in Sanzo's mouth in another way. His teeth captured the man's lower lip, sinking down as gently as possible, nibbling and sucking in a way that all but unraveled Sanzo's sense of dignity. He groaned; quiet, but still there, and likely Goku felt it in the vibrations.

"Sanzo," his lover muttered; his name barely audible to the man's ears. "Sanzo, just... try talking to him..."

_Fine, whatever,_ thought Sanzo absently. He was far more interested in recapturing Goku's mouth, to inhale that heat into his own body and simply set it on fire. Tugging on Goku's shirt – which, he realized a second later, had somehow come off during his pulling – he urged the boy to settle back atop him.

"Sanzo—"

"Shut up already," he said. When Goku eagerly swallowed those words and initiated the kiss again, he was pleased. At times like this, talking was highly overrated—and did nothing to alleviate the guilt bordering the edge of his hazed thoughts anyway.

—

Homura wasn't sure how long he sat in his car, staring thoughtfully at the windshield as rain sluiced the glass. He should have gone inside as soon as he'd returned, but once the car was off, he'd found himself lulled by the sound of water pounding all sides of his car. The spring rain had come rather early.

When distant thunder sounded, he reminded himself that it would be wise to get inside. Now was not the time to sit around and become depressed. He was on a strictly brief break.

He had no umbrella, and was drenched to the bone within seconds. As always, when the weather hit this hard, Homura dimly congratulated himself on buying a car without leather interior. For some reason, wet leather was far more irksome than wet cloth; perhaps because the leather was so seemingly grand, that it seemed a shame for it to be anything less than dry and perfect.

And if anything true was to be said about him, it would be that he was a perfectionist.

Unfortunately, there was little he could do about dripping rainwater all over the hallways without being exceedingly late on his way back to work. He had claimed a late lunch break, when in actuality he was returning home to get something he had forgotten. Ironic, he thought cynically, how he tended to be so absentminded around this time of year on top of moody.

He was startled but not displeased to open the door and find Sanzo halfway from the bathroom to the main bedroom, also dripping wet but radiating a heat Homura felt even from his distance. The blonde froze, staring at the man with an unreadable expression. Then a cross expression flickered through, and he scowled before making sure his towel was wrapped tightly around his waist.

"Close the door already," he snapped.

Snorting, Homura did as requested. (He would not think of it as doing what he had been told.) "I did not realize you would be home as well."

Sanzo glared. "Not that it's any of your business, but I didn't have work today."

Homura said nothing, though his brain was working on two levels at once. The first was exasperated that the man had said such a thing. None of his business? It had been that kind of attitude that had lead to where they were now.

The other level was vastly amused at Sanzo's inability to multitask. It seemed the blonde had difficulties giving him dirty looks and keeping his towel around his waist at the same time. Homura would have preferred one or the other; and really, the glare didn't bother him as much as the towel's presence did.

As though sensing his thoughts, Sanzo turned on his heel, the semi-damp material flying up. "Don't you even think of touching me," he threatened, storming into the bedroom.

"I?" Homura asked innocently, the smirk on his lips betraying his tone. Sanzo couldn't see it, but no doubt he could sense it somehow. Following the blonde, he continued. "I would never... without your _explicit_ permission, of course."

Sanzo looked up sharply, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Homura had to admit he liked that, even now. Only one person could look at him as though he hated him—and yet be telling the exact opposite at the same time. Goku was charming in his blatant honesty (he couldn't lie even if he tried), but there was something just as appealing about Sanzo's attempts at deluding himself.

Homura inwardly cringed. Even now, when he was trying to stay in a good mood, the guilt was too pressing to ignore. If he had wanted to torment Sanzo by touching him before, the urge was now gone.

_Gods, forgive me..._

"Did he tell you or not?"

Homura belatedly realized he had lost his train of thought. He felt vulnerable, helpless, and the concept made him feel ill. In attempt not to show it, he masked his voice with a shadow of his former playful innocence. "Goku, I presume?"

Sanzo scowled. He seemed agitated, and hadn't moved from his spot—wary of dressing in front of Homura. The man could have chuckled from the irony had he been in the mood.

"Don't play stupid," the blonde spat. "Yes, Goku."

Homura briefly tried to recall if their other lover had told him anything of great importance recently. He thought of nothing. "If he has, my memory escapes me."

Lips thinning, Sanzo said, "Then I'll do it. Get out by the end of the week, damn it."

Homura felt he should have been surprised. Perhaps the numbness of his current weakness had somehow canceled it out. Running a hand through his hair, he said tiredly, "I am sorry, but I am going to have to ask you to extend this deadline of yours."

His request clearly did not make his lover happy. Yet as emotionally drained as he was, Homura didn't miss the warring emotions that briefly flickered in Sanzo's eyes. Somehow, he thought wryly, he was not convinced that Sanzo was entirely serious about his order. Either that or he was greatly confused; perhaps even both.

"Why the hell not?" his lover asked, his voice flat.

"Because," Homura said simply, "Goku and I have plans for Saturday afternoon."

Jealousy seeped out of Sanzo's tone, even if his expression was cold. "Really."

"Unfortunately," Homura said. "Of course, you are welcome to come."

"Come to what?"

He was tired, and the day suddenly only seemed longer. Choosing not to answer right away, Homura walked past Sanzo – taking exaggerated care not to touch him – and to the nightstand on his side of the bed. Normally, Goku slept between them, and was thus even more reliant on one of them to wake him up. Until now, Homura hadn't realized just how symbolic their young lover's position was. Between them, he was caught in the midst of attention—and that was truly a great part of the current downfall.

And, of course, Sanzo had warned him months before that if he "screwed things up," he would kill him. Now, Homura was simply too weary of the entire situation to argue. Particularly now, as guilt weighed him down, he felt as though he had no right to be where he was.

In the drawer was what he had left behind. Homura picked it up, taking care to tuck it into his breast pocket. Finally looking up at Sanzo, he allowed himself a self-mocking smirk. "To her grave," was all he said.

The blonde's expression became utterly unreadable. He said nothing, but averted his eyes after an uncomfortable pause. Then, wordlessly, he opened the closet door and pulled out a pair of jeans.

Leaving Sanzo to his thoughts, Homura made his way back into the torrents of the heavens' tears.

—

Goku could feel the man's impatience all the way from the door. Despite that, he couldn't shove his feet into his boots any faster. For the past week it had been raining almost constantly; he had even received a day off from school due to complete power failure.

In fact, lack of power had made events even tenser for a few days. Sanzo's laptop battery had long since died, and without outlet electricity, there was no way to recharge it. Thus, he had been even more irritable than usual.

Goku tried to hide a smirk as he struggled with his other boot. Last night, at least, it seemed all three of them had found a way to work off their frustrations. It never failed to amuse him just how... interesting things became when they were all in the same room.

"Will you hurry up already?" Sanzo finally snapped.

"Just lemme find my jacket," the boy insisted. Finally jamming his foot in completely, he scrambled for the closet.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Sanzo heave a quiet sigh and roll his eyes toward the ceiling. He looked tired—and he wasn't exactly standing in the most comfortable way. Goku had to fake a cough to cover up his snicker.

He felt more than saw the sharp look Sanzo gave him. "And what's so funny?" the man asked, his voice a low growl.

Shaking his head quickly, Goku slipped his arm into one sleeve. A flash of light caught his eye, and he turned to the window with a light frown. _A storm, too?_

"Hurry up."

Shaking his head, Goku turned back to his lover, zipping his jacket in the same motion. "Ready."

Downstairs, Homura was already waiting, the car idling. He didn't give either of them so much as a sideways glance when they got in. Once the doors had shut and the sound of rain spattered the metal around them, he said quietly, "You will be drenched."

In the passenger seat, Sanzo huffed and closed his eyes. Goku could see it from the side mirror, could even see the strangely calm expression on the man's face.

"You already invited us," Sanzo said, his voice just as soft. "Drive."

Despite the circumstances, Goku couldn't help but relax. He couldn't see Homura's expression, but pictured the wry smile tugging the man's lips anyway. "As you wish," Homura said.

It wasn't until they had neared their destination that Goku realized they had forgotten something important. And even as he opened his mouth to remind their driver, an idea occurred to him.

—

There were times Sanzo hated the rain more than anything else. Now was one of those times; and he knew very well it was because the past seven days had absolutely sucked. On top of that, it had to be pouring this afternoon. Damn the forecast for predicting mild showers. They never had to step outside in these conditions, so what did they care?

Normally, he would dredge up a memory that would make the precipitation less unbearable. There weren't many, but the few he recalled could usually calm him. One excited him, even, but he refused to think about it while he was in the car. With Homura. And, of course, that particular memory just had to involve being inside a vehicle...

That was Goku's fault, of course. Sanzo never felt guilty about placing the blame on him.

Despite having been told they were visiting a grave, the sight of the cemetery still came as a bad startle. The scenery was too typically angst-ridden—with the gray skies and thick drops splattering upon every available surface, making the graveyard appear utterly dreary. The only thing saving it from sheer crushing depression were the scattered flowers on various graves, some upon the headstones and others over the plot of ground. The tension in the front seat seemed to grow only thicker, until Sanzo began to feel nauseas. He bit the inside of his cheek, refusing to show any sign of an emotion other than indifference. He was here out of respect for the dead, and nothing more.

In the back of mind, he knew the excuse was bullshit. He ignored it.

"Aw, crap." Goku's voice startled the two in front; Sanzo himself had briefly forgotten the boy was still with them. He tried to cover his jumpiness by unbuckling his seatbelt.

Homura, however, made no such move. "Is there a problem?"

"Sorry, it's my fault," Goku said hastily, escaping his own seatbelt and opening the car door in the same move. "I forgot to get flowers. You guys go ahead, I'll catch up!"

Sanzo looked at him sharply, but as he got out of the vehicle, the rain flew into his eyes before he could protest. By the time he had wiped the sting away and had shielded his eyes, Goku was already running down the sidewalk, practically a blur on the other side of the black-barred fence.

Homura shook his head, pushing already dripping hair from his face. "You may follow him, if you wish," he said. His voice was barely audible above the rain, but Sanzo heard perfectly fine. In response, he gave the man a cold look and turned on his heel, striding past him and into the cemetery. Sanzo wasn't positive, but he thought he caught a brief hint of surprise in Homura's eyes as he walked past him. Pride kept him from turning to check; even if he had, the man probably would have covered it by now, anyway.

In the end, it was Homura who lead them to the grave. Despite his suit, he had not bothered to bring an umbrella; it was soaking and probably ruined now, but for once he seemed not to care. Sanzo stared, for once not in physical appreciation. Something seemed to emanate from Homura... perhaps that charisma Goku mentioned, but Sanzo had never really seen in action.

Or perhaps it was simply that, until now, Homura had never appeared so human. Crouching in front of a plain tombstone, the man reached out and pressed his palm against the curved top.

"Forgive me, Rinrei," Homura said. His tone made Sanzo visibly start; in all the months of living with him, never had the man sounded so soft, so utterly gentle—as though he were dealing with something so fragile his normal voice could shatter it. "Not only have I put off visiting you, I have been a coward. I should have come to you months ago... though I must admit; life has not taken quite the turns I had expected."

Sanzo thought he should have felt as though he was eavesdropping, but somehow that was not the case. In fact, it seemed perfectly natural to listen to this man speak to the dead. The acknowledgement made him uncomfortable, but Homura's words distracted him.

"I fear I must also admit I feel quite guilty for my actions. Perhaps the heavens would find them sinful... I wonder, Rinrei, do the heavens suit you?" Homura slowly caressed the tombstone, his expression solemn. If Sanzo hadn't known better – had he not known Homura's type, or the fact it was raining so hard – he would have thought the man was crying. The illusion was merely the rain, and yet it almost seemed fitting.

"After death, my love for you never perished, Rinrei. I have..." Surprisingly, Homura hesitated, and when he continued his voice was weighted with guilt. "I have found others to care for. I do not deserve your forgiveness, much less your blessings, and yet..."

The pause stretched into silence, and Sanzo found he could keep still no longer. He stepped forward, shoving his hands into his coat pockets—a distraction from the futile cigarette he wanted to light.

"Don't worry." Homura's shoulder's visibly tensed, and the man peered sideways at him with his single brilliantly gold eye. The expression Sanzo could see was vulnerability seeping into confusion, something that was so much like Goku that Sanzo couldn't keep from saying more. "About him, that is," he said, staring directly at the tombstone. "He's doing fine, nothing particularly wrong." He refused to look at Homura, for fear he would lose the will to say what needed to be said.

Taking a deep breath, Sanzo finished, "Don't listen to this jackass. He just needs to get a couple priorities straight and maybe stop thinking of himself as a heretic." Still speaking to Rinrei, he looked down at Homura again and said firmly, "He'll be fine."

For the first time since Sanzo could remember, it was Homura who looked away first. The man shook his head and sighed—but there was a hint of a genuine smile behind the smirk tugging his lips. "I suppose if anyone, Rinrei, you may want to worry about him," he said lightly. "I believe I have corrupted him far too much."

Sanzo scowled. "You couldn't corrupt me if you tried."

"Oh, I certainly could," Homura said, patting the tombstone as he rose to his feet. "I simply cannot say how, out of respect for dear Rinrei."

A rustle was Sanzo's only alert before another body pressed between them. Goku knelt on the ground and spoke before Sanzo could berate him. "M'really sorry," the boy said, placing a handful of red carnations before the tombstone. "Homura's great, really, and I really promise he's not doin' anything wrong." Goku smiled. "He's just selfish, but you can't blame him. You sounded like a great person, and Sanzo and I aren't exactly the best people to fill your spot. But we'll be okay. We're always okay. And Homura can be okay now, too."

When he stood, Homura tousled the boy's wet hair, smiling wryly. "An appropriate choice," he said, obviously approving of the flowers.

Goku positively beamed. Then, in a flash, he had the man's keys in hand. "Awesome, I call shotgun!"

As he ran back to the car, Sanzo shook his head in disgust. "Some respect for the dead."

"I hardly think you are one to talk," Homura replied smugly. "Your fingers were twitching for nicotine."

Sanzo shot him a look of disgust. "Why the hell do you notice these bizarre things?"

Homura drew close, something that was normally out of Sanzo's comfort range—but this time, didn't seem that bad. "Because," the man said simply. "I notice what I am interested in."

Sanzo stared at his lover, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. Then – and only because he enjoyed surprising him, he told himself – he closed the space for a chaste kiss.

Immediately afterward he slipped past the man, shoulders tense. "You better not have made a mess packing anything," he muttered, praying for the cold rain to cool his suddenly flushing face. "It'd be a bitch unpacking again otherwise."

"I had not even begun, I am afraid," Homura said wryly. From the sound of his voice, he was quickly recovering from the surprise and was already catching up to Sanzo.

The man scoffed. "Arrogant bastard."

"Or simply a procrastinator," suggested Homura.

"Just call it lazy, you idiot."

"Ah, but that would be telling."

Sanzo stopped, turning to face the man. Homura met his gaze steadily, not critically as Sanzo had before, but calmly, as though patiently awaiting permission before he did anything more. The car was only meters away, and Sanzo could feel Goku watching them; curious, but not heavy. The connection between them thrummed briefly, and then went quiet; also waiting.

Homura was not a part of their connection. It was one exclusive to the two of them. And yet...

"I already said you could stay," Sanzo stated.

"For whose sake?" inquired Homura. When Sanzo did nothing but stare, the man elaborated. "Given your previous and current relationship with Goku, as well as previous attitudes towards myself, I may only assume it is for his. It would be presumptuous of me to decide otherwise, particularly when you are more than capable of speaking for yourself."

If there was one thing Sanzo hated, it was being forced to admit something. At the same time, he knew very well Homura's concerns were valid, and not alleviating them would, in the end, only make matters worse. The situation was still shaky as it was; it would take more than just his assuring a dead woman to make the strange relationship work. In the end, it may not even be worth it.

But he preferred to earn points for effort, however minimal.

Flatly, Sanzo said, "It's for four people."

Homura cocked his head to the side. "Four?"

"Don't make me repeat myself," Sanzo snapped. "That's what I said, and if you can't figure it out for yourself, then you're even stupider than I thought."

At first, Homura seemed to have no response. He turned his head back to the cemetery, the rain smoothing his expression into something unreadable.

Then, softly, he said, "My apologies."

Sanzo shook his head, turning on his heel, intent to actually make it to the car this time. In a voice he knew might not be audible in the rain, he said, "Don't. They'll only be wasted."

The car was chilled; Goku had not turned on the engine, and the window had fog and imprints on it, as though he had pressed his face to the glass. Retribution came in a sharp smack upside the head as Sanzo slid into the backseat, taking over Goku's previous position.

"Hey!" Goku protested, twisting in his seat to glare. "That hurt!"

"You're washing the window when we get home," Sanzo said. And he was going to dry himself off, the better to have a decent smoke.

That is, if he was reading the eyes in the rear view mirror wrong. Otherwise, both his and Goku's little appointments would have to wait for another day.

Despite the day's events, Sanzo somehow didn't mind.


End file.
